Against the Illusion of Separateness

Against the Illusion of Separateness

By Pablo Neruda

There is no insurmountable solitude. All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are. And we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence in order to reach forth to the enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song -- but in this dance or in this song there are fulfilled the most ancient rites of our conscience in the awareness of being human and of believing in a common destiny.

AND THE PEOPLE STAYED HOME

By Kitty O'Meara

And people stayed at home
And read books
And listened
And they rested
And did exercises
And made art and played
And learned new ways of being
And stopped and listened
More deeply
Someone meditated, someone prayed
Someone met their shadow
And people began to think differently
And people healed.
And in the absence of people who
Lived in ignorant ways
Dangerous, meaningless and heartless,
The earth also began to heal
And when the danger ended and
People found themselves
They grieved for the dead
And made new choices
And dreamed of new visions
And created new ways of living
And completely healed the earth
Just as they were healed.

Carrie Grossman

I am paradox embodied,⁣

formed out of the most beautiful nothing.⁣
⁣
My body is made of sap and songs, red earth, musk, and morning light. ⁣
My mind is a flaming windflower. My soul: the sky.⁣
⁣
Tossed on the potter’s wheel, I am supple and shriveled, resistant, surrendered,⁣ forever destroyed and re-made. ⁣I know blossoms born of burning, and I also know rain.⁣
⁣
I am the story of a slow burning star.⁣
My yearning is rebellion, my pleasure unmoored.⁣
⁣
I am the wound and the medicine, protestor and protested—bound and ever-free. ⁣

Beneath the painted masks of personality, I am consort of eternity.⁣
⁣
Loved and rejected, respected, subjected, praised, and put down—⁣
when all of this fades, I am what remains.⁣
⁣
Who writes these words?⁣
Who thinks these thoughts?⁣
⁣
Woman of tides and bones, her full potential still unknown.⁣
⁣
Ripening, I am.

By Mash Muirhead

Wearing his life vest
the little boy runs
through the sprinkler

By Marsh Muirhead

Between fence rails
the little boy explains
cows to the cows

Dudley Wright

by Franz Wright:

Lighting a candle for my father
I am also my father
lighting a candle
for his
in the past, where he is
also his father
lighting one for me